Sigrún watched her warily.You should rest.
“I’ve rested enough already. Besides, I cannot hide away in bed. You know well enough how it is.”
Hekla didn’t need to spell it out. The pair of them had the double disadvantage of being femaleanddisabled. A single sign of weakness, and any respect they’d managed to grasp for themselves would be gone in an instant. Women like Hekla and Sigrún had to be perfect all the damn time. And in moments like this, it was utterly exhausting.
Sigrún’s jaw hardened, but she nodded.
After Hekla had dressed and twisted her prosthesis onto its metal anchor, she and Sigrún made their way down to the Hungry Blade. The mead hall was packed to the brim, a wall of noise crashing upon them as they entered. Candlelight guttered down from iron chandeliers, catching on the tapestries and weapons mounted to the walls. Bodies jostled about as ale sloshed and dice clacked across the tables. Hekla caught sight of Halldora, a strained look on the barmaid’s face as she scurried between warriors, refreshing their cups with a jug of ale.
Her gaze fell to the high seats, and she scowled. There sat Loftur, clad in layers of silk, a crown of woven barley askew on his head. Beside him, Konal rumbled with laughter before tossing back ale from a golden goblet.
But a roar from the central long table quickly diverted her attention. Hekla’s scowl only deepened. Eyvind Hakonsson’s arm was wrapped around Thrand Long Sword’s shoulder, the pair’s eyes closed as they swayed and sung a bawdy tune. Tonight, the top and sides of Eyvind’s hair were coiled into tight tracks, woven into a set of larger braids spilling down his back and around his shoulders.
She caught sight of the pair across from Eyvind and blinked.Onund Ale Drinker danced with Alf the Slender, who seemed to be wearing an apron dress.
What in the eternal fucking fires was going on here?
The song ended, Alf the Slender taking a bow as those around him erupted in cheers and whistles.
“A rematch!” he bellowed, climbing back onto the bench. Across the table, Eyvind was already throwing his braids over his shoulder, positioning his elbow to arm wrestle Alf. A barmaid slunk up behind Eyvind, slender fingers massaging his shoulders as she bent low and whispered in his ear.
As though sensing an impending storm, Sigrún tugged on Hekla’s sleeve, then signed,I’ll find us a seat while you talk to Hakonsson.
Hekla nodded and fought her way through the mass of bodies before she could think twice.
The moment Eyvind caught sight of Hekla, he shot to his feet, his expression morphing from dazedly drunk to enraged. Eyvind stormed toward her, shoving a drunken warrior out of his way.
He was angry ather? Hekla’s hand curled into a fist.
But a large body collided with hers from the left. Had she been of sound mind, Hekla would have sensed it coming and would have easily dodged it. But the fever’s lingering effects had left her off-kilter, and she staggered sideways. Suddenly Eyvind was beside her, one arm slipped around her waist, the other deflecting the bulk of the warrior’s momentum.
“Your bed calls to you, Bersi Hairy Cheeks,” Eyvind told the culprit.
After mumbling a nearly incoherent apology, the man—whom Hekla did not recognize—stumbled toward the mead hall’s doorway.
“How is it that you already know the names of each resident of this gods-forsaken place?” Hekla grumbled, shaking herself loose from Eyvind.
The mischievous glint she was used to seeing in Eyvind’s eyes was nowhere to be seen. “What are you doing out of bed?” he demanded.
“I-what?” Hekla blinked, taken aback at how legible his words were. A moment ago, she’d thought him drunk, but now it was clear he was completely sober. “I’mfine, Hakonsson.”
“You need to rest. You almostdied. It’s a miracle you’re even alive?—”
“’Twas only a fever.”
“It wasn’t afever, you infernal woman, it was that bloody gods-damned mist.” Eyvind glanced over his shoulder. “I cannot have Loftur dissecting our every word from across the hall.” Guiding her by her prosthetic’s elbow, he directed them to the back exit of the mead hall and into the alcove linking the hall to the inn.
It took Hekla’s eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, she was keenly aware of how small the space was. “Have you investigated the staves?”
She couldfeelhis glare despite the darkness. “Rushing into those woods all by yourself?” he said, ignoring her question altogether. “Why would you do such a thing? I do not understand why you would risk yourself so recklessly!”
Her brows snapped together. Did the man understand nothing of what this job meant?
“You look better,” he continued, his voice softening. “Your cheeks have some color to them. But I see you’re not quite steady on your feet yet. Did you drink the tea the healer left?”
Hekla blinked at the sudden change in direction. “Staves, Hakonsson. Focus. Have you followed the Spiral Staves?”
Eyvind opened his mouth, then closed it.
